


too long since i’ve been a fool

by scudfrohmeyer



Category: Bright Young Things, Vile Bodies - Evelyn Waugh
Genre: Adam is a Bastard, Affairs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic-Asexual Character, Beards (Relationships), Cheating, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, Erotic letters, F/M, Forced Outing, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sick Miles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scudfrohmeyer/pseuds/scudfrohmeyer
Summary: miles gets sick and comes to befriend ginger. well, perhaps a bit more than “befriend.”
Relationships: Ginger Littlejohn/Miles Maitland, Miles Maitland & Agatha Runcible, Miles Maitland/Tiger LaBouchere, Nina Blount/Ginger Littlejohn
Comments: 26
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i started writing this before i finally saw the full movie (i’d only seen miles’s and ginger’s scenes), so if there’s any non-canon compliant bits, that’s why we have the canon divergence tag. anyway happy birthday to that delightful welshman who has basically been my second dad for ten years!

Miles woke up to the most tremendous head cold at just past noon. His body ached, he felt his brain thud behind his eyes, and his stomach churned. The rays of sunlight cast over his pale, cold, sweat-tainted form didn’t help, and he felt bile rising up in his throat. He felt weak getting up to open his curtains and crack open the window, let in some fresh air. February air was fresh and forgiving, it cleared his congested thoughts.

Perhaps he’d call Agatha, plead for her to come spend the day with him and get him over his sickness. Maybe she could wrangle their confidants and they could get into some sort of havoc even with him feeling poorly. Miles is interrupted on his way to the phone in the foyer when his face turns a horrible shade of green. He makes his way to the bath and flushes his sick down the toilet, feeling much worse for wear within just a few moments.

His friends wouldn’t dare come to him in this state, what if he was contagious? He understood their fear and disgust if they did feel such a way towards him. So, he gets to the phone and dials Agatha, already awake and already inviting him to a luncheon with the rest.

“Come  _ on, _ Miles, you can’t be feeling so ill that you can’t come to the Ritz with us. Have some caviar, you’ll feel better.” Agatha sounds all too perky, which only exacerbates his headache.

He moans gently, cupping his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I think I’ll need to stay home today, dear. I’m very sorry.”

There’s a rustling on the other end, and suddenly he hears Nina. She sounds just a tad zozzled, and her voice is so high it rings horrifically in his ears.

“Miles, darling! I was listening in, it’s absolutely  _ ghastly _ that you’re unwell.” He can practically hear her gesticulating wildly with her hands, one of which is definitely clutching a cigarette holder between her index and middle finger. “You really can’t come along? Perhaps a little champagne would cure you?”

He chuckles, but she can tell it’s pained. “I’m afraid not. You’ll just have to tell me how splendid it was later.”

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe I could send Ginger over to take care of you. He owes me quite the favour, it’s the least I could do.” She sounds perky, but the offer confuses Miles. He’s only seen Ginger a handful of times, he can’t even recall talking to him beyond a simple “hello.” Awful moustache and lovely eyes, that was all he could remember of Ginger.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—” He starts, yet Nina pipes right back up.

“Oh, no, it won’t be any trouble at all! I know you’ll be horribly lonely without us, it’s only humane to offer you a friend for the day.” She tells him that Ginger will be over shortly, and that he’d better recover soon.

Miles is now facing a predicament. Does he dress up to not look so horrid to Ginger, does he put on a little rouge and mascara to look more lively as he typically is? And why would Ginger even agree to take care of an ill person he doesn’t know? Well, he can leave early if he wishes, Miles can take care of himself.

He can pretend that’s not a blatant lie.

He sits in bed, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Miles puts on a record, changes into a clean pair of pyjamas, and fixes up his bedroom. He’d wrecked his room the night before after he came home, had a bit too much cocaine and danced to some jazz records well into the early hours. Now that he thought about it he probably just had a bad hangover, but it wasn’t one he could just disguise with shades.

So he sits and he waits for a stranger to watch over him, maybe talk with him if he doesn’t find Miles dreadful.

He has nothing in common with Ginger, that much is true. Not that he can say that for certain, but Miles rarely trusts a man with awful facial hair. Even ones with well-manicured facial hair were untrustworthy. His past few lovers had facial hair of some kind, all of them ended up cheating and stealing from him. But, maybe he’d prove to be the first moustached man that Miles didn’t end up disliking. What a hopeful thought that was!

He worries himself over if he looks alright. His hair is frizzy; it tangled and knotted back up the night before, even after he and Agatha went at it with a flat iron for much too long. Purple shadows crawl out from beneath his eyelashes, his eyes themselves are heavy and ache for more rest. Lord knows they won’t be satiated, he can’t even begin to think how he’d fall asleep with a stranger watching him. 

Granted, if they slept together beforehand, the nerves immediately dissipated.

The rap on the door startles him, and he gets up less gracefully than he normally would. He answers the door despite how abnormal it is and finds Ginger looking a tad fidgety. He quickly puts on his smooth and polished facade.

“ _ Hallo _ . You’re Miles?” He can’t even begin to maintain eye contact with him, he simply stares at his clammy forehead. “Or are you Miles’s sickly butler?”

He holds his hand out like he’s expecting Ginger to kiss it and quickly retracts it when he realises who he’s talking to. “I’m the dreadfully ill Miles Maitland, yes.”

“Ginger.” He pauses a moment to look at Miles; he can see the mascara from the night before still smudged beneath his lashes, little flakes of eyeliner remaining, but that only entices him. “Shall I come inside?”

_ You shall, _ Miles hears in the back of his mind, an answer to a question he’d been asked by numerous lovers beforehand before he was twisting and groaning for release. Though, this is one of the few times he’s heard it as a genuine, surface-level inquiry. There was nothing deeper hidden underneath the words, Ginger didn’t accent his question with an eyebrow quirk or a little jerk of the corner of his lip. So, he does the polite thing and steps aside to let Ginger into the flat.

“So, your family is the Maitland’s? I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He glances round the place, he can’t see the anxiety on Miles’s face.

“About my family, you mean?” He laughs, his throat is scratchy and tight. Ginger looks up at the portrait just within the drawing room, a very modest portrait for a lord’s family, including what looked like a different Miles. His eyes were much emptier, much less happy than they were now. Even when he was sick there was more life to him than there was in that portrait. He wore an ill-fitting smoking jacket and his shoulders tensed underneath his father’s large hands.

He looks back at Miles, whose dark eyes are inspecting the painting. He meets Ginger, unsure what to say. So, he points at a stray brushstroke, one that made a small scratch in his mother’s forehead.

“My father nearly killed the painter for balling up so terribly.” He can’t think of anything more interesting than that. His eyes wander, slipping down to look over Ginger. Miles is ashamed that his eyes land on the vague marking where his basket would be, and immediately turns his attention back to the painting.

“I could only imagine.” Ginger follows Miles’s eyeline, and immediately he looks away, shaking his head and avoiding his reluctant companion’s gaze. “ _ Hm,  _ a bit zozzled, are you?”

He nods, and thank god he’s saved. “Perhaps another sip would do me well.”

Ginger follows Miles through the flat, and he can’t find much to say to his guest. He tries to do anything to brush off how he ogled at him, so plainly and unmistakably as well, but he can’t shake it. Once they reach the stairs, he starts to feel woozy.

“Shall we adjourn or would you like to rest here a while?” He asks, holding the bannister in one pale hand.

“You look like you’re going to collapse. Here, let’s go to your bed.” Ginger helps carry Miles up the stairs, throwing open his door and settling him down on his bed. He pulls a chair up from another room, and asks if he needs anything.

Miles already forgot why Ginger was here.

“Ehm, would you care for a little drink? I can’t imagine it’s fun to watch me over when you’re not a tad ossified.” He starts to get up, and Ginger holds out a hand.

“No, you stay in bed. I’ll get myself something, you can just lie back.” He aways to Miles’s vanity, finding a nearly-empty bottle of vera and returning with it. “It’ll have to do.”

Ginger tips the bottle back and takes a long swig. He downs it with ease, and sets it on the bedside table. The record has ceased playing, it now spins idly in the phonograph with the needle digging new tracks into the center of it. Oh well, Miles didn’t quite like that record to begin with.

“I can’t sleep, if that’s what you’re waiting for me to do.” His eyes search Ginger’s, he tries to decipher what he’s thinking. With men it’s always so delightfully easy, but he won’t give Miles the satisfaction of decoding his thoughts.

He can’t imagine how bored his guest must be. Lying in bed, sniffling, how dreary! Especially stuck with someone sick and unpleasant to talk with or gawk at, there was scarcely anything for Ginger to say. He just looked round the room, inspecting every little detail of Miles’s life that had been contained in this cozy little cell.

“No, that’s quite alright. Would you like me to show you something?” He asked, taking four coins from the pocket of his jacket and setting them on the bed beside his legs.

Miles sits up and watches, trying to look invested but already knowing this trick. Ginger hovers his hands over the top two coins, and moves them down to the other two, and before he knows it each coin is sitting beside his thigh. Nina described the trick to him and Agatha as Adam had told her, but she didn’t quite understand it without seeing it herself. And now that Miles can see it, he isn’t exactly sure he understands it either.

“How nifty! Show me again.” He watches Ginger set the coins down again, and gather them up just the same as he had. Miles brings his knees up to his chin and stares, entranced by how he picks them up without moving his fingers.

Ginger grins at Miles’s enthusiasm. Adam hadn’t been half as invested in his little performance, and he figured it out quite quickly. It wasn’t difficult, it looked much harder than it truly was, so he couldn’t place why his new companion was enjoying it so. He guessed illness did that to the brain, made one giggly and slow.

“Here, let me show you.” Ginger outstretches his hands to grab Miles’s, manipulating his fingers with his own, and before he knows it the coins are once again piled atop each other. Though, Miles had admittedly not been paying attention to the trick. His cheeks turn faintly red, and he smiles subtly, just a little curl of the corner of his lip.

The trick is performed a few more times until Miles fully understands how to do it on his own, and does it forwards and back to Ginger’s delight. Now he grins broadly, enjoying the little satisfactory chuckles that erupt from his chest.

“Do you know any others?” He asks, hoping to be held by Ginger once more, but he shakes his head.

So, Miles needs to find something else to break the silence. He gets up from the bed and places his favourite record into his phonograph, quite a lovely jazz instrumental recorded in Paris. Before he can settle back down in bed, Ginger asks if there’s any more alcohol.

“My father has some downstairs, it should be in the drawing room.” He sits down and waits for the magician to return, still lingering on his hideous moustache. He’d be quite fortuni without it, though he can’t ignore that he finds Ginger attractive even with the lip hair.

He can’t help noticing how lovely his face is, especially those orbs. Dark and warm, when he was friendly, at least. And the look that crossed his face when he was manipulating Miles’s pianist fingers, it was so explicit and delightfully evil.

He settles in his bed, a grin growing on his lips. This wasn’t as horrible as he’d expected it to end up being. He didn’t anticipate Ginger being so lovely to him. Miles didn’t always trust Nina to make good choices, but this was the rare time in which she had. Perhaps her leaving Adam hadn’t been such a horrendous decision. Being insured to someone as fun as him couldn’t be the worst thing.

Ginger returns with two bottles in his hands. “I found gin and rum, I assume you’d like this one.”

He extends the green gin bottle to him, long and slender and ornate. Miles tips the bottle back, though he stops when he notices Ginger watching.

“Oh,  _ where _ are my manners? A sip?” He offers it, and Ginger takes it. He shakes himself out and returns the bottle to Miles, who continues emptying it into his throat.

“It’s only been an hour and thirty, what else would you like to do?” Ginger takes a swig from his rum and holds it out to a flushed yet pale Miles. He takes it and drinks delicately, wanting to leave some for his delightful guest.

“If we get a little hopped up, I have some ideas.” He knows his silver cigarette case is nearby, not filled with cigarettes of course. “Maybe some dancing?”

Ginger laughs, taking a long swig from the rum bottle. “The gin wasn’t enough?”

He decides to simply enjoy sharing a drink with him. Not everything had to lead to horrendous trade.

They drink until their bottles are empty, discarding them on his bedside table. Miles wants to grab Ginger and sway about the room with him, in some disappointing version of a waltz. Dance to some stuffy old ballroom records, pretend his bedroom is the Ritz.

He asks if it’s night yet, despite the sun rays shining across his face. Ginger replies that he must be boring, which Miles vehemently denies.

“I’m dreadfully boring today, darling. I can’t even keep my thoughts straight.” He pouts, his arms crossed over his chest.

Ginger shakes his head. “You’ve been a lovely, sickly host.” He places a hand upon Miles’s. “I have an idea.”

He immediately stands up after that, going to the gramophone and thumbing through a pile of records. Miles watches him, specifically his arse. It’s quite nice, he’s seen much nicer but those nice arses had a horrid animal attached to them more often than not. As far as he’s aware, Ginger is perfectly nice. Just like his dish.

In a moment music is playing, a nice jazz record that Miles quite enjoyed. He plucked up the strength to get out of bed and start dancing. Well, as best as he could do with sore legs and a leaden head.

He shimmies his shoulders and delights in how Ginger tries to dance alongside him, obviously not the partygoer that his companion is. He understood basic moves, like tapping his feet about and jerking his body in rhythm to the music.

“How do you do that?” Ginger asks when Miles is shimmying about, giggling.

Miles knows he’s zozzled now, if he’s pretending to not know how to shift his shoulders. He moves to stand before Ginger, and places his hands on his shoulders. He gently nudges them in time to the song, and Ginger grins broadly. They cackle as Miles assists him, getting ever so closer.

That moment just before he shares a kiss with someone is the worst experience for Miles. He’s staring at Ginger’s face, he sees the light behind his eyes change from confusion to interest, he feels his own face heat up. He feels like he’ll ball up spectacularly, that he hadn’t read the situation properly. This will be page one in the papers, it always is, isn’t it? And oh, Nina would be  _ furious _ !

He’s surprised when Ginger pulls him in himself, kissing him sloppily. His hands cup Miles’s red cheeks, and he feels something poke and prod at Miles’s stomach, just above his crotch. If his mouth wasn’t pressed against Ginger’s, he was sure he’d be gasping for air.

When Ginger pulls away for a breath, Miles dives right back in. They open their mouths and his snake-like tongue slips across his own, he can scarcely believe how wonderful he is with his tongue. His eyelids flutter, he grabs Ginger round his middle and holds him close. It’s pure luck that they’re here alone. He rarely even got the opportunity to be with Tiger without the fear of being caught. But this was perfect, utterly perfect. Sure, he still felt a bit dreadful, but he could ignore that.

And suddenly dining at the Ritz and getting hopped up at a boring party was much less important to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Miles feels quite stir-crazy after the other day, though he can’t ignore how magical it was. When he awoke, Ginger had been lying beside him, running his hand across his torso. He was fascinated by Miles, like he was an intricate artifact that he didn’t quite understand. He’d gently run his fingers down the middle of his stomach, then he’d tangle his fingertips in his pubic hair before tracing back up his rib cage. Miles drew him in, kissing him softly and trying to persuade him into another bout, yet it was already dusk. Ginger left not long after, but not before he grabbed Miles, cupping his hipbone in one hand and his shoulder blade in the other. He smiled at him, though neither had any idea what to say after what just happened.

After he’d had time to think over what happened, what they did, he didn’t feel ashamed about it. How could he? Yet, he didn’t know if he could face Nina after he slept with her beau.

So, when Miles met Nina, Agatha, and the lot at yet another racing event, he has a hard time looking her in the eye. He props his shades on the bridge of his nose and avoids her gaze. She has absolutely no idea and he feels a bit bad about that, but he’s mostly worried about being isolated because he couldn’t resist Ginger. He knew Agatha would side with him, but if Nina said something bad about him he’d be done for.

“Why did I think I could expect more from an Archie Schwert party?” Nina tips back a martini, and Miles runs his finger along the lip of his glass. “How could he let that many photo rats in? And how dreadful their pictures were!”

Agatha giggles, exhaling smoke. “I think the photos and articles are a compliment. That my life is worth hundreds and thousands of pounds, though I could do without the stories of me being the prime minister’s mistress.”

Miles swallows hard, hoping the conversation won’t turn to affairs, be they fictitious or not. Thankfully, no one is looking at him.

“Tiger gets upset with me when I end up in the papers, as the only decent photographs he has of me are ones where I’m hanging off other boys.” He sips his drink, trying hard not to choke. Nina looks at him, and smiles.

“But it must be a treat for him to see you in the papers, I should think?” She says, languidly, and grabs another cigarette from her compact. “Light me please, Aggie.”

“Remember that article Simon wrote before he cooked himself? I keep it in the drawer of my vanity, it’s quite the treasure. _Eight_ men at once! How ghastly!” He laughs, downing the rest of his drink. The table erupts with a laughter fit before it turns deathly silent.

Adam, how the hell did Adam get here? He walks up to them and tries to be civil, ask Agatha and Miles how they’re doing while avoiding Nina altogether. Perhaps it would have been better for him to just ask her how she is, politely, and leave it at that. Avoiding her made it all the worse.

“Where is your dear Ginger?” He asks, and immediately a weight falls over the table. 

Miles feels anxious with the whole interaction, and gets a chance to stand up and exit while Adam is still staring down Nina, who has her lips contorted into a scowl. Agatha stays, as she is much too ossified to stand properly. It couldn’t have been that wise to let her out of the tent anyway, especially after the last incident. It was a miracle that she was only granted a warning.

He heads to the pit to find Tiger, invite him into the loo for some much-needed stress relief, and return to the tent where hopefully all of the unpleasantness has subsided. Of course, nothing ever went to plan for Miles.

Tiger is absent, gone somewhere without telling his crew, and he scoffs loudly at how inconsiderate that man was. So, he wanders about the track, looking for some fun if he can’t manage to find his angel body. Perhaps he’ll take to cottaging once again if all else fails.

He finds himself walking along the track, a way aways from the action. Miles pulls his coat closed and looks round, wondering if he should return to the tent or not.

Something grabs him and pulls him into a small cluster of trees just off the road. When he looks up, he finds Ginger smirking at him and rubbing his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Nina told me you were round, why’d you have me come and search for you?”

He presses a kiss to Miles’s lips and pushes his shades off of his nose, but he’s succinctly pushed away. Ginger is surprised to see him so upset at what should have been a lovely surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Miles asks, but he knows Ginger isn’t listening. “Tiger will be furious!”

He pulls him close and kisses him once more, which makes his knees turn to jelly. His moustache tickles his upper lip, but he’s quite a wonderful kisser. Miles wraps his arms round Ginger and smiles against his lips, in a way he’s getting what he wanted. They’re too far out to be found, and he’s doing everything he can to keep Miles from coming to his senses and pushing him away.

“I’ve missed you,” Ginger mutters against his lips, and the both of them can’t keep their hands in one spot for more than a moment.

For a moment, Miles can put the idea of him going home to Nina after he’d buggered one of her best friends out of his mind. His shame will return soon, but he has no intention of addressing his conscious for a while.

“We’re going to a party tonight, please come with.” Miles smirks, his lack of sense wants him to do something that, known to only himself and Ginger, would be mocking Nina. He’s letting his cartes rule his head, but it’s such a miraculous high. He’s groping Ginger’s very lovely dish, and his hand is rubbing the front of Miles’s cats.

“ _Mm,_ I hope you hang off my arm the entire night, then.” He peppers kisses down Miles’s neck, and he giggles loudly at the sensation. “And I hope you laugh like that at the party, I want everyone to turn their heads and wonder what exactly I said to you.”

“Please let it be horrifically explicit,” Miles sighs, tilting his chin up to the sky as Ginger nibbles at his neck. “You’re being entirely unfair, you devil!”

Ginger starts to unbutton his waistcoat, yet they’re interrupted. What an utter shame to hear voices drawing closer and closer. They turn deathly silent and primp themselves, disappearing through the other side of the tree cluster and running back to the tent. They’re in need of a couple glasses of something strong to ignore how close they were to trade in the trees.

When they arrive at the tent, Nina and Agatha are thrilled to see them once more. Nina’s eyes are red, and Agatha looks a touch traumatised. While the rest of the tent is quite invested in their own conversations, with the looks on their friend’s faces they’d be certain that Adam and Nina got into a shouting match. Miles sits down beside her, holding her hand and attempting to comfort her.

“What did that _horrid_ man do?” Miles hugs her close while she whimpers into his shoulder. If someone asked her what was wrong, it only brought her to tears. Ginger stands to the side, watching his fiancée have a cuddle with his lover. He gets some kind of sick thrill from it, but seeing Nina’s face twisted and red and teary offputs him. So, he sits beside Agatha and grabs an untouched drink.

“He called me a gold digger and told me I am dreadfully unlovable!” She grabbed his coat and held him tightly, undoubtedly smearing her eyeshadow and lipstick on his lapel. “I’m certain he’s going to write about me in his column! How positively wretched!”

Miles rubs circles into her back, but he can’t come up with any words of comfort. So, he makes a pathetic attempt. “Nobody believes what Adam writes, and you’re better than him, darling.”

“I know, I know. Thank you, Miles.” She sits up, sniffling and excusing herself to the ladies room. When he turns to look at Ginger and Agatha, he finds them both sipping their drinks while closely watching himself and Nina.

“I do hope he won’t be at the party tonight, I cannot imagine him running into us and speaking so horrendously to her once again!” She sets her drink down and glances between Miles and Ginger. “So, where did you find Ginger?”

Miles furrows his eyebrows, and moves to place his shades back on his nose before he realises that they aren’t atop his head anymore. “Oh, uhm, of course! Poor thing was lost in the pit, I had to rescue him.” He can’t turn his gaze to Ginger and smirk, no matter how desperately he wants to.

“Will you be staying for the race? I’m sure Miles would appreciate you staying to watch Tiger.” She grins, taking out her compact and offering it to Ginger.

He rejects it, but Miles quickly takes it and picks some powder up on his nail. Agatha takes her compact back and stuffs it into her clutch, turning to greet a freshly made-up Nina. No more smeared lipstick or dripping mascara, she looked wholly presentable again. She sniffles softly and sits back down beside Miles, before grinning uncomfortably at Ginger.

“I wish that awful man would never show his face again. How I loathe him,” her voice ever-so-slightly trembles, and she lights a cigarette with a trembly hand. Though, after a few drags she’s perfectly fine, prepared for a lovely dinner and quite a lot of dancing. She shifts her chair to the other side of the table and settles beside Ginger, though she doesn’t look up at him. Instead, Miles is transfixed, sharing a few timid glances with him.

He smiles softly, licking the inside of his cheek while they’re staring at each other. A small smirk curls on Ginger’s lips. Neither Nina nor Agatha have any idea of the silent exchange happening right before their eyes, it’s so very exciting! Especially when no one has any idea what they did the other day, only the two of them in on this dirty little secret.

“Darling, Tiger shall be racing soon! Let’s go!” Agatha gets up, and thankfully no one was brainless enough to give her a spare driver band. She’d only get to watch from the guard rail now, along with the rest of them.

The race goes well, only one car bursts into flames, and Tiger comes in second. Miles applauds for him, cheers and congratulates him quite boisterously, and Ginger lights a cigarette and bitterly watches his lover fawn over someone so totally undeserving.

He wonders if tonight when he’s fumbling round with Tiger he’ll be thinking about him, wishing it was him grabbing him close and moaning in his ear. There’s nothing to be said between himself and Nina, she always complained of having a pain when he wanted some intimacy, and he has to finish himself off most nights. If only he could convince Miles to come over for the night. Perhaps he’ll be able to convince him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you for all the extremely kind comments on the first chapter~ secondly, i used this chapter as therapy after watching “kenneth williams: fantabulosa!” and “gallowglass” in one night. i have now seen my welsh dad’s penis and i’m not thrilled.
> 
> anyway, here’s the terms for this chapter:  
> cottaging - sex in a public restroom  
> dish - buttocks; attractive man   
> cartes - penis  
> cats - trousers


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story has been getting so much support and i’m so incredibly grateful for that~ it’s been really lovely going through these comments, i’ve been rereading them since my dog passed away yesterday. sorry for such a sad thing to start the chapter, but the next one should be lovely~ thank you for reading~! <3

Tonight, Lady Maitland would hold a quite stupendous gala at the family’s sprawling home out in the country. It would be a masquerade ball, an annual event at the Maitland’s. Everyone important would be there, dressed to the nines, and the photo rats would find any way to sneak in and get juicy photos for their publications. It would be a lovely affair.

Miles has prepared his outfit, something very uncommon for himself—he had stolen one of his mother’s evening gowns, a shapeless bejeweled piece of satin with an overcoat of sequined tulle and a belt that fell level with his crotch. It hit his mid-calves, and the slit down the front showed his sternum and the joint of his ribcage, his quite accentuated collarbones were also brought out by the neckline. It was black, with gold and silver crystals crawling up from the bottom hemline up to his mid-thigh. He will adorn his ears with his mother’s earrings, made specifically for this dress with gold and silver beads dripping down from the backing. To finish off the outfit, a golden clutch purse, black heeled Mary Janes, and a Venetian mask with the same gems. He’ll have Nina paint his eyes and lips as she would, his hands shake terribly when he’s had too many nailfuls of cocaine.

Lady Maitland hasn’t yet noticed one of her most prized dresses missing, and she shan’t notice until tonight. That is, if she even runs into Miles. It seems unlikely with the amount of company she’ll be hosting, but she always manages to find her son before the night is done.

He isn’t worried how the papers will react; in fact, he wants a severe, scathing response to his dress. Though, he’s not just wearing this for the photo rats. He intends to waltz in and find Ginger standing beside Nina, who would immediately step away from her and rush across the dance floor to pick him up, kiss him, scream every little detail of their lovemaking to the reporters, the gossip columnists, anyone who can scrawl out his exact words and submit them the fastest.

However, he simply readies himself for the night. He washes his hair, styles it in a fluffy mop atop his head, and he waits for Nina and Agatha.

They arrive about twenty minutes late, when the party has just gotten into full swing. Miles gets up and greets them, the gems on his dress making a quiet rattle when he approaches. Nina grabs his hands and swings round with him, admiring the detail work on the gown.

“How are you and your mother both the same size?” It drapes off of him perfectly, in no way does it look like it wasn’t designed for his body.

“I’ve no idea, darling. Perhaps I’m blessed.” He grins, submitting when Nina sits him down in the chair of his vanity, preparing to darken his eyes and lips. 

She takes out her cake mascara, and wets it with water on a brush. She smudges it across his eyelids and below his lower lashes with her pinkie finger, and when she’s done Miles has two identical, perfectly black eyes. Agatha takes out her creme rouge and dots red on the apples of his cheeks before blending them out gently. He can take it from here, he takes a deep red lipstick he bought from a department store for his “wife” and fills in his lips with it. In no time, he looks completely different.

Nina laces his Venetian mask and pushes him out of the chair, leading him to the party. The chatter builds and builds until Miles steps through a wall of sound and formally enters the party. At first, no one can figure out who he is, they wonder if he’s new, until he starts talking loudly to the friends on his arms and begins his trek to the bar service. The dress’s hemline sways round his legs and he balances three martinis in his hands.

“Who is that?” He can hear two older people ask, ones who shouldn’t have been let through the door. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her before.”

He gets a thrill from going unrecognised, but how desperately he wants to be recognised! The disgusted reactions, the photos plastered on every paper known to man! Miles sips his martini and returns to Nina and Agatha, a starry look in his eyes.

“What a bore everyone is. The biggest party of the year and nobody present matters! At least Archie Schwert attracts the right kind of people.” Nina moans, guzzling her martini and holding a lit cigarette between her fingers. She bobs her shoulders one at a time to the music, and behind her mask Miles can see her roll her eyes.

“No one’s even taken a photograph of us yet! Suddenly we aren’t front-page news?” He responds, glancing about the room in hopes someone interesting will approach them. However, interesting people aren’t approachers, they’re approachees. So, what in the world will he do if this party doesn’t pick up soon? Go to a party in the city? Who else would arrange an event the same night as Lady Maitland’s masquerade ball?

Agatha looks over at some positively ghastly guests, grey-haired and judging everyone behind cupped hands. Without people like herself, they wouldn’t even be invited to these parties! They were an afterthought.

Miles leads them to a chaise lounge placed against the wall, nestled in between a pair of frilled plants, and they all settle onto it. Some girls dressed as angels, for what reason he had no clue, arrive to giggle and fawn over the bright young things, who are totally uninterested. They ask who the new girl is, Miles grins, and introduces himself as Millicent Maitland, Miles’s twin sister just returned from finishing school in Switzerland. The girls wonder aloud if Switzerland is such a lovely place as they’ve heard, and “Millicent” tells them London is far superior.

“Really? How awful! My daddy has been talking about sending me to finishing school in Bern!” The blonde angel turns to her brunette friend with a concerned expression on her face. “Oh, where did you go, Millicent?”

“La Chaux-de-Fonds, my dear. The men you’ll meet there are fabulously wealthy and fiendishly handsome,” he giggles in the highest voice he can muster and leans in, taking her hands. He hopes that laughing and pretending to be kind will convince her that such a school exists.

They whisper something explicit to themselves and run off, tearing through the crowds to the dance floor. Their laughing tears through the manor’s parlour, leaving Miles, Nina, and Agatha to sit and wonder when a real taste of excitement shall arrive.

Excitement ends up stepping into the room fashionably late. He strides in wearing a simple black suit and matching mask, with a cocky grin on his lips. Miles’s eyes light up, and he immediately sits up straight, eager for Ginger to make his way to their seat. However, his excitement dissipates as Nina stands up and wraps her arms round him. Jealousy bubbles up in his stomach.

“Hallo, Nina.” He kisses her cheek, which she immediately retracts from, groaning slightly. His eyes fall over Miles, and he sees through the disguise very easily. Ginger smirks softly and pulls back from Nina, holding her arms and facing her. While no one is looking at him, Miles’s lips quiver into a smirk.

“Hello, dear,” she responds, a forced smile on her face. She desperately wishes that Ginger wouldn’t touch her, she just wants a friend to listen to her and spend time with her. Though, she has Agatha and Miles for that. But Ginger knows her much more intimately than they do, they have childhood memories that the other two just can’t understand.

He brushes a curl from her cheekbone, and her eyes flash discomfort. “What are we doing tonight? Something big, no doubt?” He turns to Miles and Agatha, and puts on a big show of not recognising what he could most accurately describe as his “mistress.”

“Well, who is this?” He takes Miles’s hand and kisses it, just as he’d expected him to do the other day. “Where did you find a choice bit of calico like this?”

Agatha giggles uproariously, and Nina’s lips curl up into a smile, but she tries to pull them into a poker face. Miles curtsies and the blush on his cheeks is too deep to ignore.

“Millicent, _darling._ ” He turns away from Ginger, but his eyes remain locked on him. “I’ve just returned from the Alps, or somewhere else quite cold and boring. My brother is so lucky to be a dewdropper, no dreadful snow and pretentious Swiss professors. Oh, _my_ , you’re Ginger Littlejohn, aren’t you? Miles told me oh so much!”

“I do hope I get to see Miles before the night is over,” he grins, his entire world is the horrifically-disguised boy before him. “What a shame it would be if I didn’t get to see you both.”

Miles hears the music change to a jaunty tune, one he admires quite a lot, and he jumps slightly. He doesn’t even need to say anything, but if only he could say what he wants to. Once they’re alone, he can.

Ginger holds out his hand, which Miles takes very quickly and gratefully, and they spin out onto the dance floor. They spin round and lead each other a hopped up faux-waltz, all while the crowd either ignores them or looks over and wonders why Ginger isn’t dancing with his fiancée. Though, they’re mostly ignored, and for once it feels nice. Miles and Ginger start to slow, and he wonders if his friends are watching. Perhaps this was all a mistake, and they’d both regret it once the papers came out.

But for now, they’re dancing and staring into each other’s eyes, and Ginger is resisting the need to lean in and pet with Miles.

“I have a room at my father’s club for tonight, will you join me?” He whispers into his ear, what a lovely photo this would be. He’d keep it on his vanity and cherish it forever. He didn’t have any pictures like that of himself and Tiger, but he also refused to take any pictures with Miles. They’d circulate back to his father, and the consequences would be severe.

He dares, he goes too far, and he kisses Ginger’s earlobe. “Of course,” he murmurs, leaving lipstick stains on his neck. “What will you tell Nina?”

Ginger wipes the lipstick away and bumps his lips against Miles’s hairline. “That I’m meeting with my father and his friends for drinks, obviously.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Miles giggles, and it hurts that he can’t kiss him properly. They dance for the remainder of the song, they start to forget they’re in public. They’ll both do something they’ll regret, but both Miles and Ginger have a wildly different idea of what that is.

When they return to Nina and Agatha, the two have started following the same routine as them, mocking their intimacy. “The photo rats quite enjoyed your performance, _Miles_.” Agatha is throwing Nina’s arms about in the air, and they both snicker at the reveal that the doll Ginger had been dancing with was Miles all along.

“Miles!” Ginger tips the bejeweled mask off of his eyes, finding his faux-zozzled lover hanging off of him and giving him the most tender look he’s ever seen on one’s face. “How did I not realise it was you?”

He grins wildly, his eyes glittering and wide. They looked so pretty ringed in black, it made them darker, more mysterious. His grin says everything, though he longs to hear those words coming from Ginger’s lips.

“How silly of you, you fell for my scheme!” He hugs Ginger close and spins round. “I thought you much cleverer than that.”

“You’ll see how clever I am tonight,” Ginger whispers into Miles’s ear, he nibbles the lobe gently before he pulls away. Miles’s face blushes bright red and he has to cover his sore smile. Agatha pulls Miles in and twirls out into the crowd with him to dance to a quite joyous song, but Ginger and Nina stay behind. There’s a look of concern on her face for a moment, but it fades within half a second before they’re following Miles and Agatha into the crowd.

His stomach starts twisting, they both got so caught up in public where anyone could see them staring tenderly, _lustfully_ , at each other. Rarely he’d think about what would happen if he was caught engaging in homosexual actions. He’d easily be sent to prison, his parents wouldn’t try to break him out and terrified him. He tries to resist looking over at Ginger, share another explicit look and make another mistake.

Miles and Agatha lose sight of Nina and Ginger quite quickly, and they don’t see them again. Together, that is.

Lady Maitland approaches them after a while, and she asks how Miles could do something this stupid.

“You just want to rile people up, don’t you? If any of this ends up in the papers I never want to see you in this house again!” She scowls before she storms away, her eyes flaming behind her Venetian mask.

“ _Bushwa_! Who needs you? I’ll move out tonight!” Miles screams back at her, rushing up the stairs to grab his belongings and leave before the sun rises. Agatha follows after him, barely processing what’s going on.

Miles throws different shirts and trousers and waistcoats into three different suitcases, his mask tossed to the floor and his shoes kicked off in a blind rage. She watches from his bed, inexplicably holding two flutes of champagne that she couldn’t have been able to grab before they came upstairs.

“I’m a bit spifflicated, dear, what happened down there?” She asks as he is sifting through his wardrobe, finding what he needs the most. He tosses a hair dryer in the bag, along with a couple of books from his Oxford days, ones he would definitely want.

“My mother is such a monster! I need to be away from her!” His eye makeup is beginning to streak down his face, he’s already smeared his lipstick onto his cheek, and his hair is beginning to fall out of its original style. “Can’t I stay with you for a while, Agatha? Until I find my own place, of course.”

She nods, tipping back the champagne flute and getting down on the floor, setting the other beside him. They chat indiscreetly, Miles continues to gather his most important belongings until he has three full suitcases of everything he needs. If he was truly packing everything he needed, he’d easily be carrying nine cases on the verge of exploding.

Miles hugs her close once he’s finished packing and changed into another outfit, one for traveling, and sniffles into her shoulder.

“I thought you looked lovely, darling. Please don’t cry, I don’t know what to do when someone is sad.” She pats his back and looks out the window behind him, the moon is full and high. The night is still young.

They head out through the back, and once they reach the front of the manor, they find Ginger standing beside the front doors, a gasper hung between his lips. Miles tries to rush past him, but he sees him almost immediately.

“Miles!” He runs over to him, throwing his cigarette down onto the ground. “Slow down!”

He grabs his arm, and he keeps his face turnt away from Ginger’s. It would just be pathetic for him to see Miles weepy and weak. “Hello, Ginger, I need to go. The cab is here, they’ll charge each minute we dawdle.”

He turns Miles to face him, and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Ginger straightens one of his rumpled lapels and swipes some red lipstick off of his cheek.

“Stay with me tonight, please. I can’t stand the thought of you soothing your broken heart with somebody else.” He whispers, they can’t let Agatha hear. Though, she hears everything. She already knows it and has accepted the current state of the relationship between Nina, Ginger, and Miles.

He leads Miles to his bus parked nearby, and once they settle into the car, he places a kiss on his smudged lips. They hold each other close, he buries his face in Ginger’s shoulder and whimpers softly.

“My goddamned mother,” he murmurs between sniffles and muffled wails. “I don’t have a home any longer. I have nowhere to go.”

“You’ll go with me,” says Ginger. “We’ll stay at my father’s club for a few days.”

Miles cups his cheeks and kisses him gratefully, a full statement of thanks is in order. He places red stains across his mouth and down his neck before Ginger stops him.

“When we get to the room, dear.” He presses a finger to his lips, but he still longs for more. It’s like torture waiting until they get to Ginger’s room at the gentleman’s club. He glances over at him driving, he smiles at the fact that he belongs to Miles. He hasn’t thought of Tiger in what feels like ages, though he’s had some pity sex with him once since Ginger came into his life. He consumes Miles’s every thought.

It’s painful to realise you’ve fallen in love all over again, especially when it’s with someone who will certainly be done with you in a month or two, once you’ve done everything together.

He doesn’t want that time to come with Ginger anytime soon, as odd as it sounds. He hopes it’s just the alcohol and emotions talking, that he hasn’t become invested in him beyond sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glossary time, my dudes:  
> choice bit of calico - a desirable woman  
> dewdropper - lollygagger; someone who sits round doing nothing, typically unemployed  
> bushwa - bullshit  
> splifficated - drunk (i can’t run out of these)  
> gasper - cigarette  
> bus - an old/outdated car (i’m just proud i managed to work one in from the movie)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like it’s taken forever to finish this chapter, but here it is~ again, thank you for continuing to read and comment~

The first thing Miles does when they get into the room above the gentleman’s club is wash the faded makeup off his face. He looks at himself in the mirror, scowling slightly at what he believes to be the worst possible reflection he’s ever seen of himself: puffy, watery eyes, pale lips, his cheeks flushed red. If he wets his hair slightly to reform it into its natural shape, he looks a bit better, but now he’s just doubting himself. Ginger found him attractive even when he was red-nosed and green in the face, he’d certainly find him attractive without makeup. So, he takes a deep breath and steps out into the room. He comes to find Ginger already shirtless, trying to undo his trousers, his shoes are kicked off just at the foot of the bed.

He sits in Ginger’s lap, kissing him roughly like he wanted. Miles wraps his arms round the back of his neck and moans, trying to hush himself. There are other rooms above the gentleman’s club, yet it was an unsung rule that the rooms in gentleman’s club were most certainly used for sex. So, he really can be as loud as he likes. His whimpers echo through the room, and Ginger hums happily, wordlessly pleading for him to keep making those noises.

“ _Mm_ , when did I tell you to keep this on?” He laugh softly, pulling Miles’s shirt up over his head. “You look so lovely without it.”

He presses their mouths together, his face is so warm in his hands. Ginger places his hands on Miles’s hips and moans as his lover begins to grind against his lap. His voice raises into a register that he’s never heard come out of Ginger’s mouth before, but he loves it.

“Please keep doing that,” Miles says against his lips. He tries to wiggle his trousers off of him, ones that are now much too tight to remove. The first time they slept together he felt like he’d puke the entire time, but it was a great time if he ignored that. Now, he’s perfectly comfortable, he’s ready to thoroughly enjoy his time with Ginger.

The tension grows in the room, Miles is whimpering and Ginger starts working on his throat. They moan against each other’s skin, their fingers trace over every visible inch of skin and hit every peak and ridge. He gently nips at his skin, Miles whines and forces him into another open-mouthed kiss. He tastes of champagne and something else lovely on his lips. He’s shocked when he feels Ginger biting his neck and he’s thrilled at the feeling of him sucking on his skin, leaving faint bruises. Miles could only hope that he’d leave deeper, purpler bruises. The room erupts in sighs and the sort of moans that sound exaggerated. He throws his head back while Ginger kisses his chest and spreads his thighs further apart.

Miles rolls his hips, giggling ecstatically. Ginger is akin to Asmodeus, using his tongue in ways that are utterly new to him and stirring so much inside of him. He encourages him, gyrates further, gasps and calls for him to keep going. His cock is so desperate for release, he wants Ginger to pin him down and slip himself inside soon. He smiles at the feeling of his lips on his nipples, gentle kissing and teasing that makes a shudder run through Miles’s body. The sound of his exhaling, shaky and warm and delighted, is music to Ginger’s ears.

“Do you like to watch me suffer?” Miles whispers into his hair, kissing the top of his head. His arms wrap round his hips, grip into his soft, easy-to-bruise skin.

“You’re suffering just from some teasing? How are you going to feel when I’m inside you?” He runs his tongue across one of Miles’s nipples, it makes him whimper with joy. They pull each other close, Ginger grabs him and kisses him roughly.

Miles is pressed against the bed in what feels like only a moment, and Ginger pulls off their trousers. He’s excited to see him so erect, so prepared for what’s about to come. In the bedside table, a vial of lubricant was nestled beside a hand towel and a compact of cigarettes. He reaches into the drawer and grabs the vial of olive oil. Before he can open it, Miles grabs it and pours a puddle of it into his hand and starts rubbing it onto Ginger’s cartes. He moans, running his hands up and down his thighs.

When he comes inside, Miles whines loudly and arches his back. His hands grasp Ginger’s back, he grips tightly and moans uproariously.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whimpers, biting his bottom lip. Ginger pushes one of Miles’s legs up, giving him more access to thrust into him. He throws his head back and sighs, digging his nails into his back.

Ginger kisses him and grabs his dish, which makes him gasp once again. Miles pulls him closer and whimpers against his skin. “You dressed up just for me tonight, didn’t you?”

“I might have,” he smirks, running his fingers through Ginger’s hair. “I wish you’d done this to me on the dance floor, darling.”

He smirks at him and starts to thrust harder, which gets even louder moans out of Miles. He wants to scream, so he bites his shoulder and whines into his skin. His fingers find their way up to his hair, he grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls gently, he almost begins to cry. No one’s ever made him feel this way before, he thought it wasn’t possible for there to be something better than what he’s done with Tiger. He laps his tongue across the forming red mark, getting a little shudder of pleasure from Ginger. They stare at each other for a moment, and he smiles at him gently. It feels different as well.

It all feels too fast when he pulls out, and he’s cleaning them both up. He hadn’t even noticed the semen on his stomach, and all of a sudden Ginger is lying back down with him. He kisses the tip of Miles’s nose, a small smirk on his face.

“I wish we’d met sooner,” he says, his voice soft. “Perhaps university would have been more bearable with you.”

Miles’s eyes dart between his eyes and lips. His heart is aching, he is horrified to realise that he loves to be with Ginger. This wasn’t just an occasional affair that would fade out after a few more late nights, he would probably long for him once they couldn’t meet anymore. Because there always came a time where they couldn’t see each other again, once people caught on to what they were doing and would start to threaten jail time. Or, Ginger would come to his senses and realise he wanted more than Miles. He wanted a wife, a family, a spotless reputation. Though, it may have been a bit too late on that last one.

“Could you have tolerated me? I would have been quoting Wilde to you all night long.” He smiles, turning onto his stomach and lying halfway on Ginger.

He pets Miles’s sweaty hair off of his forehead, smirking. “ _Oh?_ Like what?”

Miles sits up a little, his eyes focused intently on his lover. For a moment, he’s just distracted looking at him and admiring him, especially his eyes. He kisses him once more, taking his time to enjoy it. He feels a sense of finality for something that hasn’t even happened yet.

“Let’s see…’you don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.’” Miles grins, resting his cheek on his hand. “It’s not entirely accurate, I think. Your looks are nothing to be scoffed at, darling.”

Ginger sighs, placing one arm over Miles’s back. He rubs circles into his skin and gets a slight purr from him. “I think I remember one. ‘I can resist anything except temptation,’ isn’t it?”

“Maybe we would have gotten on.” He spreads out on top of him, snuggling into him. “How different would things be if we met back then?”

If only. But, then it would all be over much sooner, and he’d regret leaving Ginger behind. An absolutely handsome, charming, _kind_ man, gone because no one could stand Miles after long. He hugs him close, hoping that he won’t disappear in a puff of smoke.

“The sex wouldn’t have been as good,” he purrs, pulling Miles up into another quite lovely kiss, one that entails more to come.

Though, he wants to see the club. He wants to have some more drinks and dance round a bit more with Ginger. So, he gets up and tries to pull his lover out of bed, whining for him to join Miles downstairs. “Please, I want to dance!”

Ginger laughs, getting up and dressing himself as slowly as he possibly can. It delights him to see Miles so antsy and trying to restrain himself from pulling his clothes on and forcing him out the door. So he watches him from the bed, excited to show the other men in the club that Ginger is all his, and none of them could ever get a chance with him. Not with Miles round, of course.

“Does your father know you’re here tonight?” He asks, leaning back on the bed.

“He knows. Why do you think he has the nicest suite here saved for me?” Ginger looks over at him, a little smile on his face.

Before he has a moment to consider what he’s implying, he picks Miles up by his arm and leads him to the parlour downstairs. They look mostly coiffed and pristine, yet his face is still flushed a little pink and Ginger’s hair is slightly out of place. Hopefully everyone notices and feels deeply jealous at the sight of both of them hanging off each other.

Men are sat in velvet seats, sipping whisky and rum while they watch a bijou pet at the piano. His fingers move in ways that look impossible, so fast and somehow so gentle. Miles looks up at Ginger, a small smirk on his face.

“Have you ever had him before?” He giggles softly.

He squeezes his arm with his fingers, a coy look on his face. “Once. Does that make you furious?”

“Oh, _very._ You devilish thing, two of your conquests in one room.” Miles lets him lead the way to a table nestled against the wall. 

A few men glance over at them, curious about the club’s owner’s son and the boy hanging off his arm. It’s so incredibly thrilling, every man here knows that they have been together. He wishes there was some dramatic response, that everyone was scandalised and disgusted with what they’d done. But, it’s a bit of a relief that they can be close, they don’t have to hide any lust or affection.

“A few others are here as well,” Ginger grabs Miles’s hands and kisses them twice. “If we hadn’t gone to bed already, I’d ask if you wanted one or two of them to join.”

Miles giggles, covering his mouth. “Did you believe that article Simon published? Well, let’s invite all of your lovers back to the room, we’ll do whatever you like.”

“I’d like to keep you to myself for a little while longer, actually.” He stares at his lover with a sentimental look in his eyes. It’s surprising, it draws him out of their flirtation. A waiter breaks the awkward silence by producing two flutes of champagne for them, leaving before Miles can even look up and see his face. So, he takes a long sip of his bevvy to avoid saying something he’ll regret.

“When will we meet next?” He asks when Ginger decides to down his champagne.

“Miles, let’s go to Paris this weekend. No interruptions, no eyes on us, we never even have to leave the apartment.” That lovey look hasn’t left his eyes, and Miles is shocked by the proposition. He’s been offered weekends in the country, a lover has never offered to take him to someplace lovely like Paris.

While he wants to grab Ginger close and kiss him, he hesitates a moment. “What will Nina think? The both of us heading to Paris alone?”

Ginger kisses him softly and Miles tries to relax. This will be lovely, he doesn’t need to worry. Why is he worrying to begin with?

The rest of the night is spent drinking, dancing, and avoiding conversation with desperate older men. Miles rests his head on Ginger’s shoulder and he can feel his heart flutter. He closes his eyes and a smile pulls at his lips. For tonight, he can enjoy simple affection and pretend that they’re normal. No eyes are on them, no one is judging them for dancing together, no one is waiting for the right moment to ruin their lives. They just get to enjoy each other for one night.

In no time, it’ll all come crashing down, they both know it. But they don’t realise how quickly that time will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glossary time:  
> bijou - small/petite  
> bevvy - beverage

**Author's Note:**

> here’s a glossary of the terms used in the story, if you aren’t interested in looking up numerous webpages of twenties slang and polari:
> 
> zozzled - drunk  
> ball/ed up - messing up  
> basket - a man’s bulge in trousers  
> ossified - drunk (once again)  
> vera - gin  
> fortuni - handsome; an attractive man  
> orbs - eyes (half accurate, half bad writing)  
> insured - engaged  
> hopped up - high  
> trade - sex  
> dish - arse (can also mean an attractive man)


End file.
